


pretty's just a pretty word

by the_eighth_sin



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, M/M, PWP, plus feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 17:36:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_eighth_sin/pseuds/the_eighth_sin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They win the cup, because that's the kind of season they've had, and Brandon finally gets rid of his mullet and recovers from his first of many hangovers in time to see the new kid, Ryan Hartman, get drafted. He's... well, the only word Brandon can really think of to describe the way his cheeks are bright pink from excitement, eyes practically sparkling above a perfectly straight nose, is <i>pretty</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pretty's just a pretty word

**Author's Note:**

> Since Ryan got drafted about 2 hours ago I feel a. very weird about posting this and b. Like I don't know him AT ALL. 
> 
> Set in some nebulous future that will depend on whether he is awesome or not. I may come back and fix things later if canon things change.
> 
> Standard disclaimer applies: This is fiction. Not real. It's me imposing my thoughts and feelings on constructs based on real people and should not be viewed as anything other than fiction. Please do not share this with anyone portrayed in it and we'll get along just fine. Thank you!
> 
> Warning for homophobic language by a fleeting side character and posssibly perceived dub con. As always give me a bell on twitter (@the_eighth_sin) or email ( itsathinline_ff@yahoo.co.uk) for further clarificiation.

-

It takes Brandon a hell of a lot longer than he thought it would for him to finally shake his huge crush on Shawsy. As if it wasn’t bad enough that he spent all of his time hero-worshipping half the guys he was playing with, he was also a rookie (so basically free game when it came to chirping and pranks), and he literally tripped over himself every time Shawsy put a hand on him off the ice.

They win the cup, because that's the kind of season they've had, and Brandon finally gets rid of his mullet and recovers from his first of many hangovers in time to see the new kid, Ryan Hartman, get drafted. He's... well, the only word Brandon can really think of to describe the way his cheeks are bright pink from excitement, eyes practically sparkling above a perfectly straight nose, is _pretty_.

He can't shake that insistent thought when they first meet, and it sinks hooks into his stomach that tug at his insides every time Ryan looks at him, hair plastered to his forehead, cheeks red with exertion this time. He romanticises Ryan a little, he can admit it, but only up until they win their first game together, a preseason friendly that serves to demonstrate whether Ryan can compete at an NHL level, or if he needs a year or two down with the IceHogs first. They win, and they go to a bar, and Ryan almost gets into a brawl with some dickhead Canucks fan who, incongruously, is sitting in a bar in Minnesota and picking fights with Hawks players. He's already gotten a mouthful from Oduya, and Crow's been eyeing him like he's a particularly unruly punchbag for over an hour. It's Ryan who almost gets himself in trouble though, responding to the half mumbled, "Enjoy being the bitch for that bunch of fags?" when they send him for ANOTHER round of drinks ('Rookie tradition,' they chorus every time Ryan looks like he'll start protesting, and they have lucked out in finding a bar that doesn't ask for Ryan's ID every time he shows his face) with a clenched fist and "What, ‘cause taking it up the ass is the worst thing a guy can do? How about I fuck your sister instead, huh?" (Ryan's the first wave of new, more liberal guys being sent through the ranks. He's grown up in an environment where homophobia was treated with the same punishment as racism, on and off the ice. It means he's lectured more than one of the guys who've let slip a "faggot" in the locker room.)

There's a split second between the fan standing up and revealing himself to be a good few inches and at least 50 pounds heavier than Ryan where Brandon is too turned on to do anything. He scrambles out of his seat a beat later though, tailing Jonny and Duncs as they walk over to head off the fight. Brandon gets hold of Ryan by the arm and steers him away from the confrontation and back towards the table. Ryan stops after a few paces though, glancing back and saying, "I really wanted to educate that fucker." 

Brandon smiles and asks carefully, "How much have you drunk, man?" It only serves to wind Ryan up more though, and he starts spitting curses like an angry cat, nose scrunching up adorably. Brandon finds it weird how often he thinks of Ryan as the baby of the team, considering he's only 2 years older than him, but then Kaner still calls Tyler Seguin "kid," and Sharpy calls guys who haven't been rookies for a handful of years "rookie" all the time.

So Brandon knows what Ryan is like when they start quietly dating. Ryan gets into a lot of fights on the ice, but he gets into them out of his jersey too, big mouth getting him into hot water more often than even Shawsy. He picks fights with all of the guys, wrestling with Bollig and Oduya, the only ones who will tolerate his tendency to use the 'starfish' as a legitimate technique, and arguing with Brandon so that he'll pin Ryan to the mattress or the wall or the sink and fuck him hard enough, well enough, to knock the air out of him. Ryan can't mouth off if he's too busy panting for breath while Saader nails his prostate and jerks him off tight and fast, just like Ryan loves. But Brandon can't fuck Ryan all the time, no matter what Kaner says, and the constant arguments are starting to wear.

Bollig notices first, of course, but only because they hang out the most on road trips, and he realises that Ryan not bursting in half way through their Halo tournament means something is wrong. He elbows Brandon sharply and barks, "Where's Ryan?", elbowing harder when Brandon just shrugs. He pauses the game mid-assassination and Brandon groans.

"Look," Bollig finally says, after a few minutes of staring at the side of Brandon's head, "just tell me and I can help and then beat your ass at Halo." Brandon cracks a smile and mutters, "Ryanwon'tstopfightingwithme." 

He honestly doesn't expect Bollig to have an answer, but he gets up and grabs a pad of hotel paper and a stubby pencil that looks hilarious in his huge fingers and starts writing. He hands it over after 10 minutes and Brandon stares incredulously down at the bullet point list Bollig has scrawled. At the top he's written "Mouthy Shits" and the list itself consists of ways to shut up said mouthy shits. Brandon reads it once, tries not to blush when he reads "Rimming" because holy shit, his teammate did not suggest that one of his teammates eat his other teammate’s ass in an attempt to prevent said teammate from ruining his own relationship. He tucks the list into his jeans pocket, picks up his controller without a word, and proceeds to destroy every blue team member on the field.

Brandon tries a bunch of stuff, and freezing twizzlers works for a bit, because Ryan spends hours sucking on them to make them melt, but that gets scrapped when the nutritionists give Ryan an ultimatum: custard or twizzlers. Ryan would choose custard every time if you asked him a thousand times. He eats it out of the tin when they lose games.

Brandon runs out of things very quickly, wonders if maybe he needs to mix and match. He takes a leaf out of Tazer's book and devotes time to working out what works. Ryan starts to adapt though, and soon even one of Brandon's best bj's isn't enough to stop him from starting an argument over having Mexican style rice with Indian food, or whatever.

He goes to Jonny next, because Brandon's been playing hockey since he could walk, and he's basically conditioned to go to his captain with any worries. He isn't sure it quite covers this, but one of the worst kept secrets in hockey, never mind the NHL, is the fact that Kaner and Tazer have been fucking pretty much since they met, and in a committed relationship for over 90% of that.

So Brandon corners him after practice the next day in a quiet corner near the medical rooms and stutters out "Ryan keeps picking fights and it's messing with us and with the team and I don't know what to do anymore." Tazer claps a reassuring hand on Brandon’s shoulder and he closes his eyes for a second, like he does before a big game, gathering his thoughts.

"Okay, have you talked to Brandon?" He asks (meaning Bollig obviously) and Brandon nods. 

"He gave me a list? But the twizzlers only worked for a bit and the rest of it was kind of too specific or um... bedroom related." He's blushing, which up until this point Brandon thought locker rooms had trained him out of.

"I can help, yeah, okay." 

It feels a bit like Jonny's hyping himself up and just as he opens his mouth Kaner pops up and says, "He puts stuff in my mouth."

Brandon stares and Tazer's practically purple but he doesn't deny it. Kaner cackles, presumably at the look on Brandon’s face before continuing. "Tongue, dick, fingers, whatever and it's pretty easy to pass off as a bros thing in public." Kaner's obviously serious because Jonny hasn't interrupted or anything, so Brandon nods his thanks and turns to go, grabbing his bag and hurrying down the corridor to the soundtrack of a whispered argument between Kaner and Tazer.

Brandon's determined to make this work though, so that night when Ryan starts bitching about something NHL Network is airing, he rolls to the side and starts kissing Ryan, slow and languorous just like they like it. He bats away Ryan's hands when they start creeping up his sides, and gives him more tongue, pressing his palm to Ryan's jaw to make him open up a bit, until they're trading hot, wet kisses that make Brandon's breath hitch in his chest. He pulls away after a bit and goes into the kitchen to get them both drinks and to let his heart stop racing quite so much. When he sits back down on the couch, Ryan's staring with glazed eyes at the tv, and he jumps when Brandon bumps him with the water bottle and says gruffly, "Here."

He honestly can't believe he never tried this before. The next time Ryan gets shitty, Brandon pulls him over to one of the kitchen stools, pushes him to his knees and receives the blowjob of his _life_.

It works so well that Brandon stopped worrying altogether until the day he stops Ryan mid-rant with a quick kiss and guiding two of his fingers into Ryan's mouth. Ryan always sucks gently at first, like he would if it was actually Brandon's dick in his mouth, but this time he pulls away after a few seconds and asks, "Do you do this to shut me up?" Brandon's frozen silence is obviously enough of an answer because he turns away and walks into his bedroom (their bedroom, a traitorous part of Brandon whispers, because the last time Ryan went to his new place was before the last road trip two weeks ago).

Brandon considers panic-calling Tazer for a second before he remembers that he is 21 years old, and will not be calling his Captain because he got into a fight with his boyfriend. He knocks on the bedroom door softly, and ignores the way Ryan's eyes are red-rimmed and the way he's sniffling softly. He sounds completely self assured when he barks "What?" though, and it does more to settle Brandon's nerves than he'll ever admit.

"It's not that I don't..." He trails off and clears his throat. "It's not that I don't love talking to you Ryan, I just. I couldn't handle fighting all the time. It felt like that's all we ever did and I couldn't anymore." Ryan still looks angry and sad and Brandon wants nothing more than to hop into bed and cuddle the shit out of him. Sometimes he forgets that this is Ryan's first time being away from his childhood home, that he's barely 19 and dealing with his first adult relationship and his first year in the NHL all at once. 

Eventually Ryan says, "So you don't just.. you don't hate me or anything? Like, you don't just want some anonymous body?" Brandon's heart skips a beat in his chest, just the idea that Ryan could think...

"No babe, fuck, never. Okay? It was literally just all the little arguments." He hopes Ryan hears the 'I love you' bearing heavily down on Brandon's tongue. It's too early to say it yet, but looking at Ryan curled up in their bed makes all these desperately fond, loving feelings rise up in Brandon’s chest, kind of like that first time Brandon met him and thought, 'Fuck, he's even prettier in person.’

"I can work on that," Ryan says. "My mom used to say I was antagonistic and I don’t know, I guess picking fights with you stops me being so dumb everywhere else?" Brandon's never known someone to be so self-aware, and he stands up quickly, shedding his shirt and pants and curling up in front of Ryan in his briefs and socks.

"Good," he whispers. "I just need it to be a little less like we're fighting every minute okay?" He feels Ryan nod against his back and he smiles, pulling on of Ryan's big hands up to his mouth to kiss. They fall asleep soon after that, even though it's barely 7pm and they’re bound to wake up at midnight absolutely starving. For now though, this is perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Little Mix, We Are Who Are.
> 
> Enabled by @solarcat and @Esueno71
> 
> Written at 1am and quick-betaed by the wonderful @butyoucarlotta!
> 
> The idea for frozen twizzlers came from a Sid/Geno fic I read today that I will definitely find and credit. Tomorrow. At a reasonable hour.
> 
> Brandon's reaction to first seeing Ryan is basically verbatim my reaction.


End file.
